Brenna had always wondered. Now she knew. People got pissy. Especially people like Millicent. “What do you mean, you don’t have fudge?” the older woman crowed, her voice ringing so loudly through the shop every person in it shut up and listened. Awesome. That was just what Brenna wanted: a very public announcement about the sorry state of Lamont family fudge. That way she wouldn’t have to explain the situation a dozen times. “I mean,” Brenna said, making sure her voice was just as loud as Millicent’s, “that we don’t have any fudge.” “You just opened. How could you possibly have sold out already?” “I didn’t say we sold out. I said we didn’t have any. We do have some delicious peanut butter truffles. Would you like a few?” “I came for a pound of fudge,” Millicent huffed, but she’d obviously been distracted by the other chocolates. There were plenty of them to choose from. Which just might save Brenna’s hide. “I’ll have some for you tomorrow,”
